


Vintage Inspired

by 5a5b5p5



Series: Vintage au! [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: (it’s neil), Andrew gay disaster Minyard, Boys in Skirts, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, NEIL WEARS SKIRTS, Vintage shop au!, because that’s my brand apparently, model! Andrew, neil pretty, neil smartass josten, so much neil in skirts, very brief name calling based on clothes/homophobia???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:00:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25983247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/5a5b5p5/pseuds/5a5b5p5
Summary: Andrew Minyard is a bored model taking NYC by storm. One day, he stumbles upon a vintage shop run by a mysterious man with a seemingly infinite supply of secrets — and skirts.Or: Neil wears skirts and Andrew is a gay disaster.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Series: Vintage au! [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921582
Comments: 56
Kudos: 516





	Vintage Inspired

**Author's Note:**

> something a little shorter :)

Andrew likes clothes. He likes to feel the contrasting textures against his skin and he likes the way he looks in black combat boots. He likes the routine of picking out an outfit in the morning, the challenge of fitting a new piece into his wardrobe. Andrew can hear the difference between the thud of sneakers and the clack of dress shoes on the sidewalk, can appreciate the contrast of different hues of grays and blacks against his pale freckled skin. 

Andrew had starting modeling because he’d had nothing better to do after he’d graduated high school. He’d continued modeling because people started paying him absurd amounts of money to do so. It would simply be stupid to put his efforts into something more traditional when he can get everything he needs by posing for a camera and wearing clothes he likes. 

He lives in New York because that is the smart thing for him to do. All of the companies that matter have locations in the city and Andrew finds that he doesn’t really mind the atmosphere either. It was certainly better than living in California, or even South Carolina, and much less hot, too. Andrew had never been good in the heat. 

He has a studio apartment because that’s a luxury in New York City, and in his free time he visits thrift stores, finding pieces to model on his Instagram account. 

Which is exactly what he’s doing today. After a late lunch with his friend and manager Renee, Andrew walks the crowded streets of NYC, catching glances of himself in the reflections of storefronts. Today, Andrew is wearing a pair of platform Doc Martens with bright yellow laces, and he relishes discretely in the extra two inches of height that they give him. Above the boots, Andrew is wearing a pair of corduroy pants in a shade of green so dark that they’re almost black. Tucked into the pants is a long-sleeved black turtle neck.

Andrew feels good today. His outfit looks good on him and it’s the perfect temperature to wear long sleeves without sweating. Renee had taken some photos for him before they’d parted ways, and Andrew had already sent them off to Allison for some editing, giving her permission to post them on his Instagram whenever they were done. 

Currently, Andrew is walking aimlessly through the streets, phone clutched between his fingers and wireless headphones overtop his ears, drowning out the sounds of the city. 

He’s not sure where he’s going. He’s strayed a little farther than he usually would from his apartment. He’s going to have to take the subway back if he doesn’t want his feet to blister from walking too much in these boots. A moment after he thinks this, a subway stop appears into Andrew’s view. 

He makes his way towards it, watching city-goers flood up the stairs and back into the real world. Andrew is about to make his first step down to the subway when a building catches his eye. Andrew doesn’t visit this side of the city much, so it wasn’t a surprise that there are some places he’s never seen before— he doesn’t know every shop in the whole of NYC. 

Andrew _does,_ however, know every vintage shop in the whole of NYC— or at least he thought he did. But Andrew’s never seen this shop before. The storefront shows off a few mannequins, and the door is propped open invitingly. 

Andrew makes his way over to the vintage shop, reading off the name posted above the door. _Foxhole Vintage_ _,_ it reads in an obnoxious shade of orange. Andrew steps inside. 

Immediately, Andrew is met with the pleasant scent of vanilla and coconut, and he takes a breath in deeply. The inside of the shop is a little stuffy, the shopkeeper presumably using the agreeable weather and the small size of the shop to their advantage by leaving off the AC. There are quite a few circular wracks of clothes, all labeled by category and size. There are no _men’s_ and _women’s_ sections, which Andrew appreciates. Even in New York City he sometimes gets judgmental looks when he is found riffling through the women’s graphic tees. 

The shop is empty, so Andrew takes a walk around, assessing his plan of action. As he makes his way toward the back of the shop, Andrew finds a sale section, a wall of bags and hats, and a tiny checkout counter.

Andrew brushes a hand against a rack of graphic tees, making the hangers screech upsettingly, and suddenly a figure pops out from behind the counter, looking alarmed. 

The man is pretty, Andrew concedes, with light brown skin, dark auburn hair, and blue eyes so bright that it’s almost hard to believe they’re real. On the half of his body that Andrew can see, the man is wearing a light pink sweater. 

After the man gets over his initial surprise at Andrew’s presence, a smile overtakes his face. Andrew watches, enraptured, as the smile stretches out a few silvery scars across his cheeks. 

“Hi!” The man greets him, “I’m Neil! Let me know if there’s anything I can help you with.”

Andrew nods, turning back to the expanse of the store, beginning to pick his way through the selection.

Andrew makes his way through the sections, and behind the counter, Neil chats away. He tells Andrew that he goes out thrifting himself every weekend and picks out things for his store, and subsequently there is always new stock. Usually, Andrew would find himself annoyed at being forced into small talk, especially with a stranger, but he finds that he doesn’t actually mind listening to Neil talk. His voice is smooth and not too loud, and Andrew actually finds himself willingly participating in a conversation for once. 

By the time Andrew is ready to checkout, he’s been able to pick out quite a few items. Definitely more than he’d usually find in an NYC vintage shop— he’s going to have to tell Allison about this place. Making his way to the register, something to Andrew’s left catches his eye. 

Hanging above a row of graphic tees is a nondescript faded black shirt with a skull on it. Andrew wants it absurdly badly, even though he can already hear Renee teasing him about his predictable fashion choices. He makes his way over to the shirt, reaching up to pull it down, only to find that the tips of his fingers come up an inch short from the bottom of the shirt. 

Andrew scowls up at the shirt, and then down at his platforms. They have failed him. 

A few feet away, Andrew hears Neil snicker, and so he glares at him, too. “Need some help?” Neil asks.

Andrew scowls at him, and Neil says, “I’ll take that as a yes,” hopping down from his stool behind the counter, grabbing a tool from under it. 

Andrew makes a choked noise as Neil comes out from behind the counter, quickly masking his reaction with a fake cough. He can’t really blame himself for it though, because Neil is wearing a _skirt._ The fluffy pink sweater is tucked into a pleated white tennis skirt, and the color contrasts so perfectly against Neil’s tan skin that Andrew has to stop himself from reaching out. Despite being almost as short as Andrew, Neil’s legs seem to stretch on for miles, smooth and shaven, and Andrew follows them down to Neil’s ankles, where he’s sporting a pair of tall white socks. The outfit is topped off by a pair of chunky white sneakers. 

Fuck.

Neil seems oblivious to Andrew’s current predicament, and he brushes past him easily, using the tool to push up against the underside of the hanger and try to push it off its hook. Even with the tool, Neil can’t quite reach up enough to unhook the hanger easily. He pushes up on his toes, allowing his toned, muscular calves to flex, and jumps up an inch when that still isn’t enough. 

Andrew watches Neil hop up a few times, causing the white skirt to ride up high on his thighs, exposing more tanned skin than Andrew knows how to deal with. Every time Neil lands, the skirt flops back down over his ass, and Andrew watches it bounce with the force of his landings. _Fuck_ _._

Finally, Neil makes a soft, ‘ _ha’_ when he manages to maneuver the hanger off of the hook, holding it out proudly for him to take, as if he hadn’t just cost Andrew ten years of his life for having to endure that little episode. 

“Here,” Neil says, making his way back behind the counter after Andrew takes the shirt from him. Andrew is both aggrieved and glad to see the lower half of Neil’s body disappear from view once again. 

“Thanks,” Andrew croaks, clearing his throat as he pulls out his wallet, watching Neil’s nimble fingers scan Andrew’s items and fold them neatly into a pile. Andrew doesn’t blink at the cost; he knows vintage stores are expensive, and it’s not like he can’t afford it.

Neil gives him another smile when Andrew turns to leave, calling a “Come again soon!”

As if Andrew would be able to resist.

~

A week later, Andrew has another free afternoon. He knows exactly where he wants to spend it, too. The memory of Neil’s long legs had been at the forefront of his mind ever since his first visit.

This time, however, Andrew doesn’t have the privilege of going to the shop alone. Allison had bullied him into telling her the name of the store when she’d seen him wearing a new pair of jeans that she’d favored, and Renee had also been curious to see the man Andrew had described to her during his latest gay panic. 

“So,” Allison starts, sipping her way through an iced matcha latte as they make their way through the streets of New York, “anything more we need to know about Skirt Guy before we go in there?”

Andrew sends Renee a betrayed look, but the woman only smiles, taking a bite of her chocolate muffin. 

“No,” Andrew grumbles, biting off the entirety of his third Starbucks cake pop, pulling a forth out of the little brown bag in Renee’s hands.

Renee hums. “Andrew tells me that he’s very pretty. We might have to help him out of a gay panic.”

“Renee…” Andrew does _not_ whine. He’s acting aggrieved, but he doesn’t actually mind that Renee is spilling all of his supposed secrets to her girlfriend. Andrew is almost as close with Allison as he is with Renee now somehow, and he doesn’t care if she knows about most of these insignificant things. Allison also already knows most of the gritty details of his past, so Andrew figures that he’s probably stuck with her.

“A pretty boy who wears skirts, huh?” Allison drawls, tapping manicured nails against the side of her drink. “You don’t stand a chance. I bet you’re already halfway to proposing, you big softie.”

“I’m a simple man,” Andrew tells her. “And I’m _not_ a softie.”

“You keep telling yourself that, Minyard,” Allison replies, and Renee chuckles on Andrew’s other side. 

“You can’t fool us with your tough guy shtick anymore, Andrew,” she adds unhelpfully. “You’re even wearing _color_ _today_.” 

It’s true. Although he’s kept up with his usual staples of a black graphic tee and black boots, Andrew is also wearing a pair of yellow and white plaid pants, mostly because he thinks they look good on him, but also partially because he thinks that Neil might appreciate the extra effort. Maybe. 

The three of them finally come up upon Neil’s shop, and Allison gives him a wink as they walk through the open door, to which Andrew scowls. Inside, the same smell of vanilla and coconut envelopes the shop, and Andrew wonders if Neil has just doused the whole place with the sent. 

Neil is prepared for the company this time, although the shop is just as empty as before. “Hello!” Neil greets them absently, hanging up a light blue sweater before glancing up at them. Upon seeing Andrew, Neil’s smile grows wider. “You came back,” he says.

 _How could I not,_ Andrew wants to say. “Obviously,” he says instead. 

Neil hums, smoothing a hand over the sweated he’d just hung up to make sure everything is in place, emerging from behind the rack of clothes. 

This time Andrew contains his reactions to only an inaudible gasp, hearing Allison whistle quietly at his side. Today, Neil is wearing a baggy white sweater tucked into a bright pink skirt that is somehow even shorter than the white one from last week. The same white socks and shoe combination from before. 

Andrew just stares at him, unable to form thoughts, let alone words. 

“I love your skirt!” Renee pipes up, saving Andrew from having to speak, but then subsequently dooming him, because now he’s forced to watch a light blush appear on Neil’s cheeks as he ducks his head almost shyly at the compliment. 

“Thank you,” he replies, smoothing his hands over the straight pleats of the skirt. 

To Andrew’s other side, Allison looks like she’s won the lottery. She walks over to a clothing rack casually, ignoring Andrew’s warning looks. “So,” she starts, “when did you open this place? Andrew told us that he found some pretty things here.”

Andrew glares at her for that, but Neil doesn’t seem to notice the implications of Allison’s question, launching into an explanation— he’d moved here from Baltimore with his uncle when he was little and he’d started up the shop about a year ago.

They spend about an hour looking through clothes until Andrew is ready to checkout, leaving Renee and Allison to shop for a while longer on their own. He takes his spoils up to the register, trying his best to ignore the sight of Neil’s expanded thighs as he swings his legs from his perch on top of the counter, not bothering to get behind it as he starts to scan Andrew’s items. 

Neil says, “Would you like a reusable bag for this?”

Andrew says, “Will you come to lunch with me?”

Neil blinks. Andrew blinks. Renee groans and Allison drops a hanger on the floor with a clatter somewhere behind him. 

Andrew doesn’t believe in regret and he stands by that, but he thinks that maybe he should have thought that through a little more. 

Just before Andrew can _really_ start to resign himself to the fact that Neil hates him now, though, the man recovers, a light smile back on his face. “Sure,” he says, “do you want a reusable bag for this?”

“Sure,” Andrew echoes, disbelief prominent in his tone. Neil gives him a reusable bag for that. 

Neil asks, “Do you want to meet me here tomorrow? Noon?”

Andrew automatically opens his mouth to say _yes_ when he remembers that he does actually have a life outside of this tiny bubble of Neil. “I have a meeting,” Andrew tells him reluctantly. “I’m free Wednesday.”

Neil’s smile doesn’t waver. “Wednesday it is then,” he responds, reaching out to scan Renee’s items when she comes up behind Andrew.

“Holy _shit_ _,”_ Allison revels as soon as they’re back out in the open air. 

“Yeah,” Andrew responds. He honestly feels kind of dumb right now, disbelief still evident in his tone. 

“You just— _asked_ him,” she continues, shaking her head. “And he _agreed_ _.”_

“I’m excited for you Andrew,” Renee adds.

Andrew is excited too.

~

Andrew is starting to think that Neil does not know they’re on a date right now. 

So far after meeting at Neil’s shop, they’ve gotten drinks from a local coffee shop, stepped into a few thrift stores together, exchanged phone numbers, and gotten lunch from Panera. All very date-like activities— or at least Andrew thought they were. Alas, not once has Neil said or done anything that would prove his knowledge of that fact.

Now, they’re sitting on a bench in the park, and Neil is telling Andrew about what it was like moving to New York at such a young age. Andrew likes talking to Neil. Neil is pretty, that much is obvious, but more importantly than that, he is interesting. He has scars all over his body where Andrew can see his skin, and it makes sense to assume that they are present wherever he can’t see as well. Andrew wants to peel back all of Neil’s layers and see him at his core. Wants to know why he has the scars, why he’s skittish in a crowd, how he’s so outgoing when they’re alone. 

Wants to know if he’s wearing anything under those thick sweaters or tiny skirts. 

When they’d met up today, Andrew had managed to control his knee jerk reaction to gawk at Neil for five minutes the way he had done before, but not for lack of trying. Today, Neil is in a gray sweater tucked into a light yellow skirt that poofs out around his hips. The tall white socks remain, but he’s swapped out the white shoes for black high top Converse. 

Andrew himself had tried to stay within his own comfort zone today; black boots, ripped black jeans, vintage black t-shirt. 

“I want ice cream,” Andrew tells Neil.

Neil looks over to him. They had been sitting in comfortable silence for the last few minutes, sitting on a park bench and people watching. Neil smiles at him, bright and genuine, “I’m sure we could arrange that,” he says.

They begin walking in search of the ice cream parlor that Andrew knows is nearby; he knows all the sweets shops in NYC too. Andrew can hear the click of his boots against the cool sidewalk, out of time with the soft thuds of Neil’s sneakers. Andrew wants to reach out and hold Neil’s hand. 

He doesn’t. They continue walking until they find the parlor, and Andrew wrinkles his nose in disgust when Neil orders a fruit sorbet. They walk aimlessly with their spoils for a few blocks, talking in between bites of ice cream.

Andrew is thinking about suggesting a great sweet shop he knows just to see Neil’s nose scrunch up again at the mention of more sugar. Before he can though, when Neil is all but bulldozed over by a large man with a tattoo sleeve. 

Neil stumbles, and Andrew grabs his arm to keep him upright, glaring at the man. “What the fuck?” Neil asks the man, voice raised and eyes flashing. 

The man scoffs, “If you don’t want to get pushed around you should wear some real clothes, bitch.”

Andrew feels the now-rare itching feeling beneath his empty armbands. He wishes he had a knife, but his fists will do just fine. He starts forward, only to run his chest into Neil’s arm. 

Neil takes a calm step forward. “I don’t know what you were trying to accomplish, but I promise you that your idiotic insults are lost on me.” The man opens his mouth to retort, but Neil cuts him off with a silencing hand. “I’m not finished,” he states easily, and Andrew feels himself approaching the point of no return. His pants feel tight. This is far more attractive than it has any right being. 

“If you think that I deserve pushing around because of the clothes I’m wearing, you better get prepared to be pushed back a lot harder. White cargo shorts with piss stains and a black shirt that clearly displays your dandruff is not the move. Not to mention the fact that if you’re going to be pushing around men you think are prettier than you, it’s more than likely that you're compensating for something other than your atrocious sense of style.” Neil lets his eyes stray down to the man’s crotch, still so composed, with a cutting smile on his face that somehow still manages to be cute even when he’s verbally tearing a man to shreds. 

The man, for his part, only sputters out a few more halfhearted insults at Neil before storming away, trying to look tough. All Andrew sees is a man with his tail between his legs. 

Neil sighs, smoothing down the fabric of his skirt as he watches the man retreat before turning back to Andrew with a smile. “Anything else you want to do?”

Yes.

“No,” Andrew tells him, fighting to maintain composure. “We can head back to the shop if you want.”

Neil smiles at him, and they begin to make their way towards _Foxhole Vintage_ , the sun starting to lower itself from the highest point of the sky, making its quiet descent. “Do people give you shit like that very often?” Andrew asks.

Neil hums. “Not as much like that, usually. Mostly it’s just stares.”

“Why do you wear the skirts, then? If you get antagonized for it.”

Neil tilts his head to the side, scooping up another spoonful of bright red sorbet and eating it, sucking the spoon into his mouth for a few seconds. “I like them,” he says eventually. “They make me feel good about myself in the same way that I bet those boots you wear all the time do. It doesn’t matter to me what other people think is wrong or right if I like it.” Neil pauses as if he’s contemplating sharing more. “My father… wasn’t a good guy,” Neil gestures to his face— his scars. “I think that if he were alive that he would hate me for dressing the way I do, which is an added bonus. My uncle took me away from him after he killed my mom and moved us here.”

“He’s dead then?” Andrew asks. He’d better be. 

“Yes.” Neil has a smile on his face when he says it, and it’s not the genuine sweet one he gives Andrew. It’s not even the cutting edge of the smile he’d given the man he had told off. No, this smile is small and real and raw. Almost sadistic. Neil drags a hand over his mouth and takes a breath, and then it’s gone. 

Neil had given him a part of himself just now, and Andrew hates to be uneven. He thinks that he wouldn’t mind letting Neil see a few of his ragged edges. “I was in foster care until I was 13,” he tells him, watching Neil’s eyes snap up to meet his. “My mother had twins and decided to only keep one of us. None of the homes were good, and it wasn’t until I landed myself in juvie that I met my brother and cousin. I finished out high school with them and then my cousin moved to Germany and my brother went to college. I didn’t have anything better to do, so I started modeling. Moved here, met Renee and Allison.”

Neil had been completely silent throughout Andrew’s admission, but now a slow smirk melts across his face. “You’re a _model_ _?_ ”

Andrew scoffs, grateful that Neil isn’t asking about the rest of the story. “Yes,” Andrew grumbles. 

Neil smiles. “That suits you,” he tells him, and it’s so absurdly genuine that Andrew has to close his eyes for a moment. Neil ruins it a moment later though, asking, “Do they make you look taller somehow?”

“Shut up.”

“I see those platforms,” Neil laughs, “you can’t fool me.”

Andrew glares at him, pushing him playfully into the shop when they finally return, Neil’s laugh chiming brighter than the bell ringing above the door.

~

After that, Neil and Andrew continue to see each other on excursions that could very easily be dates if Neil knew that they were dating. 

Allison teases Andrew relentlessly about it, and Renee not-so-gently tries to bully him into doing something about it, but Andrew _really_ doesn’t want to screw this thing up. 

They text now, having exchanged numbers on that first ‘hang out’, and Andrew finds himself endlessly amused by the commentary Neil sends him throughout the day. He complains about the increased number of tourists that have begun to flood his shop every day, whining about the prices and availability even after Neil informs them of his reasons for those misfortunes. 

In return, Andrew complains to him about his meetings and about being asked to smile for a photoshoot when it’s very widely known that he _does not_ do that. 

On nearly all of Andrew’s off days for the next three months or so, he goes to visit Neil, picking through his store supply and going to get lunch with him. One day, Neil had even taken him thrifting with him, and Andrew had watched Neil pick out items for his shop with potential even Andrew could have never envisioned. 

Andrew likes watching Neil use his sewing machine expertly, nimble fingers threading needles and feeding the fabric through _. He likes Neil_ , he’s finally able to admit.

Now, Andrew is on the way to _Foxhole Vintage._ Neil had flooded him with text messages about an hour earlier, demanding for him to come over because ‘ _he had to see this.’_

When he pushes his way through the door, Neil greets him excitedly, wasting no time in leading him up the stairs at the back of the shop into his little apartment and dragging him to the window in his tiny kitchen. 

“Close your eyes,” Neil tells him.

“I don’t like where this is going,” Andrew drawls, but he closes his eyes anyways. 

Neil stands him right in front of the window, careful not to touch Andrew anywhere other than his arms. “Open,” Neil says a few moments later.

Andrew opens his eyes and is met with a ginormous photo of himself staring right back. It’s from a photoshoot he’d done with a company a few months back. They’d had him dress up in all black and stand menacingly, staring into the camera. It’s not one of Andrew’s favorite photos, but Neil seems to be happy enough with it, bouncing up and down on his toes excitingly. 

“You brought me all the way across the city to look at a photo of myself,” Andrew deadpans. 

“A _billboard_ of you,” Neil corrects, and Andrew rolls his eyes at Neil’s dramatics. He turns away from the billboard and back to Neil, who hasn’t stepped away from right behind Andrew. “Now I get to look at you every day.”

Andrew watches the way a light rush of color surges up to Neil’s cheeks as if he’d just admitted something and feels a little lightheaded. “Why would you want to do that?” Andrew asks, almost afraid of Neil’s answer.

The blush burns brighter, and Neil fidgets with the hem of his light blue skirt. “Andrew…” he begins, uncertain, “I think I like you.” Andrew stares at him in shock, but Neil continues, seemingly unaware of Andrew’s befuddlement. “I’ve never… felt this way about anyone before. I thought that I didn’t swing, but now,” he looks up at Andrew, “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. Dan and Matt just told me that I should tell you so I—”

“Neil,” Andrew cuts him off, feeling a rush of emotion rush up his spine and threaten to sweep his legs out from under him. He places a hand over Neil’s waist, feeling the material of his soft sweater and the contrasting smoothness of the skirt that it is tucked into. “Yes or no?”

Neil shivers out a, “Yes,” and then Andrew is surging forward to meet his mouth, kissing Neil like he’s been imagining doing for months. Andrew relishes in Neil’s tiny groans as their mouths slide together, and gives his permission for Neil to touch him above the waist. Andrew’s own hands slide over the material of Neil’s skirt, hastily untucking the sweater from Neil’s waistband at Neil’s permission, sliding his hands under the soft fabric. He moves his hands over the now-exposed skin of Neil’s waist, feeling the texture of raised scars under his palms, and suddenly the urge to _see_ Neil is too strong to ignore.

Andrew pulls back from Neil’s mouth, dragging his lips down his neck and tugging at the hem of Neil’s sweater. “Can I?” Andrew murmurs the question against his neck, loving the way Neil arches against him with a groan.

“Yes,” he sighs out, and Neil gasps when Andrew whips the sweater over his head, not blinking at the scars littering his torso, taking them in and cataloging them silently. He will ask Neil about a few of them later, but for right now, with Neil standing in front of him, he has other plans. Neil is leaning his hands back against the windowsill, looking debauched and disheveled in nothing but his skirt around his waist, eyes wide and lips red and puffy. 

Within an instant, Andrew is back on him, rucking the hem of Neil’s skirt up over his ass and then resting his hands there. Neil lets out a surprised sound when Andrew uses that grip to hoist Neil up, his legs wrapping automatically around Andrew’s waist. Andrew walks them over to Neil’s tiny kitchen counter, placing him onto the counter and making sure that Neil doesn’t sit on his skirt. 

Andrew wraps his hands around Neil’s knees and pushes the skirt up higher to expose the tops of his thighs. The sight of him like this is intoxicating. He’s desperate under Andrew’s hands, legs wrapped around him tightly to keep him close, and Andrew runs his calloused hands over Neil’s shaved legs, feeling the smoothness of his tanned skin like a shock to his system.

“You’re so pretty, baby,” Andrew murmurs, because it is the truth, and he relishes in the whine Neil gives him at the words. 

“Andrew…” Neil breathes out, flexing his thighs around Andrew’s hips.

“Neil,” Andrew replies, hearing how desperate the words sound and not caring one bit. After months of wanting this, he finally has Neil under his hands, and he intends to keep him there for as long as possible. 

Neil whines when Andrew finally pushes the front of his skirt all the way up and takes him into his hand, working him over until Neil is unraveling in his arms, gasping and clutching Andrew’s biceps tightly. 

Andrew carries him to Neil’s bathroom after that, cleaning him up gently, and then settling them in bed. He allows for Neil to return the favor, Andrew laying on his side facing Neil, stifling gasps into the crook of the man's neck while he whispers encouragement to Andrew. 

After they clean up again, Neil changes into a pair of soft sweatpants and shows Andrew his skirt collection with excitement that Andrew can’t help but be fond of. He seems to have at least one in every color. Andrew thinks that he should go online to see if he can find some skirts in black. Maybe some fishnets too.

They lay back down on the bed, and Andrew holds Neil close with an arm wrapped around his waist as they doze. Neil shuffles around in Andrew’s arms, sighs when he gets comfortable, and Andrew allows himself to fall asleep to the scent of vanilla and coconut.

~

“ _Come on_ _,_ Drew,” Neil whines, dragging Andrew by his hand through the crowded parking lot. “We’re gonna miss all the good stuff.”

Andrew lets himself be dragged along, cataloging the way that the oranges and pinks of the morning sunrise shine down on Neil, bringing out gold strands of his auburn hair and causing the glitter in his black skirt to sparkle. “It’s 6 a.m. on a Sunday, Josten,” Andrew deadpans, “in a Goodwill parking lot. I don’t think we’re gonna miss much.”

“Yes, we _are_ _,” Neil_ insists, flourishing a hand at the couple dozen people crowding the parking lot. “They’re bringing out the bins in _ten minutes_ and we would have been here an hour ago if you didn’t insist on looking like a model every time we go out.”

“I am a model.”

Neil glares at him, but his eyes soften when he looks into Andrew’s face, slowing to a stop in front of the store and bringing a hand up to thread through his hair.

“Your hair is glowing,” he says quietly, “and your eyes.” Neil sighs softly, asks Andrew, “Yes or no?”

“Yes,” Andrew responds easily, allowing Neil to press a chaste kiss to his lips. Neil had found a pair of three-inch platforms for Andrew, and he wears them obnoxiously often so he doesn’t have to reach up to kiss Neil anymore. 

Andrew pulls back from the kiss, but Neil keeps him close, suddenly uncaring that people are going to get to the bins before them.

“I thought we needed to hurry,” Andrew teases, hand playing with the curls at the base of Neil’s neck, trying to keep his eyes away from Neil’s legs in the skirt Andrew had bought for him. Unfortunately, Neil still refused to wear the fishnets out of the apartment, but Andrew doesn’t mind having Neil to himself when he wears those.

A few feet away, Renee and Allison pull up in their car, “PDA much?” Allison calls out the open window. The girls meet up with them in front of the store, teasing Neil about arriving at the same time as them. He had made them go in two separate groups so he wouldn’t be late.

Renee and Allison head into the store and Andrew holds out his hand to Neil, who takes it gently, and they follow them hand-in-hand.

Even if he doesn’t find anything in the store, Andrew thinks that he had everything he needs right in front of him.

**Author's Note:**

> a little vintage au and a lot of neil in skirts. kudos and comments are greatly appreciated :)
> 
> this isn’t very deep because i uh... umm i just wanted to write neil in skirts
> 
> come visit me on twitter where i talk about neil in skirts much more than i should
> 
> [Twitter is 5a5b5p5 ](https://mobile.twitter.com/5a5b5p5)  
> [Tumblr Is andrewsbutterflyknife](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/andrewsbutterflyknife)


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